


Leonard's Hospitality

by Janice_Lester



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janice_Lester/pseuds/Janice_Lester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk and Spock are in medical quarantine for who knows how long.  Jim sees no reason their sex life should stop.  McCoy sees no reason not to make the most of the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leonard's Hospitality

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "confined/caged" square of my second [](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**kink_bingo**](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) card. Features a certain degree of unplanned voyeurism owing to lack of privacy. And hospital gowns. Set late in the movie era (I'm thinking between ST V and ST VI). Beta'd by the charming [](http://nix-this.livejournal.com/profile)[nix_this](http://nix-this.livejournal.com/).

“Damn it, Jim, this is a hospital ward, not a honeymoon suite!”

Spock propped himself up on one elbow, completely ignoring the human who was still single-mindedly nuzzling at his chest, having parted the flimsy hospital gown at the front. “Believe me, Doctor, he is aware. I have reminded him at length. He argues that, as you have confined us here under quarantine regulations for an indefinite period, this room also doubles as our living quarters and we are thus permitted to pursue the ordinary functions of our lives here.”

“And entitled to receive a certain level of privacy while doing so!” came Jim’s muffled voice. “Why did you override the locks?”

Leonard shuffled uncomfortably. “Your heart rates were elevated, and your temps, and your—”

“Sex will do that.”

“Yes, well, the computer doesn’t know the difference.”

“The computer is an ass. Now hadn’t you better go away before you catch this horror infection we don’t have?”

Not murdering one’s patients in a fit of (perfectly understandable) homicidal fury being the better part of valour, Leonard McCoy let himself back out of the side room, locked it thoroughly behind him, wandered through the decontamination suite where he removed his protective gear, and headed back to main sickbay. Where hopefully he could find some real work to cleanse his mental palate after _that_ imagery. If not, he had a feeling he might be breaking into his medicinal stores of Kentucky’s finest after shift.

***

“Why are you so certain we haven’t been infected?” Spock asked.

Jim seemed to take the hint that amorous attentions were not particularly welcome at this time, and flopped over onto his stomach with a resounding sigh. The ties of his gown popped free and the two halves parted ways, revealing the entirety of Jim’s rounded buttocks and lordotic lower back. “Because it wouldn’t be funny if we were actually sick. That’s not how it works. Infections get loose on the ship, that’s what they do. People locked up in quarantine turn out to be clear. It’s Murphy’s Law and the Starfleet way and all that rot. Trust me, we’re fine.”

“You have a blueish pustule forming approximately six centimetres above your coccyx.”

“You’re making that up.”

Spock raised an eyebrow while he waited for the human to see sense.

“Oh. Crap. Really?”

“Indeed.”

Jim’s head turned, and they looked at one another. “So in a matter of hours we’re going to be all disgusting and exhausted and covered in weeping blue sores. Wonderful. In which case…” A hand came out to stroke down Spock’s cheek, then his chest. A slow smile formed on Jim’s face. “Hadn’t we better fuck like bunnies while we still can?”

“I am no expert on the mating preferences of Earth’s Family Leporidae. Is the favoured position broadly similar to that favoured by, say, the canines?”

“Ah,” Jim said, clambering on top of Spock, all warm limbs and illogical over-enthusiasm. “With rabbits, it’s really less about the how and more about the _how often_.” And he lowered his head for a kiss. “What’s our record, anyway?”

Spock hoped Doctor McCoy would know better than to check on them this time. He knew from experience that he could get Jim very excited, heart pounding, breath panting, body straining for movement and friction and release, and that he could keep him thus for an extended period. Right now, he felt strangely desirous of proving as much. “I would much rather test our endurance.”

“Oh, God, you’re going to make me wait for it!” Jim wailed, in precisely that tone which meant he was enthusiastically in favour of the very thing he protested. Humans were illogical, but one became used to their more consistent idiosyncrasies.

***

The nurse was green. And not just because she was young and new to her post.

“Something the matter?” Leonard asked gently, helping himself to another vitamin-fortified mineral water from the food slot. He wasn’t hungover, but replacing lost fluids was never a bad idea.

“It’s, um, Mister Spock and the captain, sir. They’re… I found them…”

Sudden irrational alarm had him checking the monitors to make sure the idiots hadn’t somehow managed to drop dead in their sleep without the computer bothering to report it. But all was well, they appeared to be sleeping. And feverish. If Spock were human, his readings would be quite alarming. “Well, spit it out, woman. How did you find them?”

Nurse Mercado visibly grit her teeth. “Naked, sir. In a messy, post-sex kind of way. Sweating profusely, covers kicked off the bed. And covered in blue marks or lesions of some kind, absolutely thick with them.”

“I see. You had no trouble with the quarantine protocols?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Well, I guess we’ll let them sleep a little longer. We already know what the disease is and we can’t start treatment until the Bregitons get us those drug samples.” He sighed. “They aren’t going to like this.”

It wasn’t until the young nurse had gone off to complete her paperwork that Leonard realised what he’d just said. They weren’t going to like this. They _really_ weren’t going to like this.

But he was.

Days’ worth of treatment opportunities with his two most sickbay-averse patients. And while they could of course refuse treatment, within reason, it wouldn’t be logical to do so and Spock would be on hand to ensure Jim didn’t dare try refusing anything. Jim, of course, would do the same to Spock out of pure, ornery spite.

This was going to be good.

Here was his big chance to get that problem with Jim’s back finally straightened out, he’d only been complaining about it ten years. And Spock’s pancreas! And he was sure he could ferret out the cause of Jim's occasional not-quite-heartburn!

Oh, this was going to be fun. Those two wouldn’t know what hit them. They’d leave his sickbay feeling twenty years younger, you just see if they don’t. And also, hopefully, no longer bright blue.

Sometimes, Leonard thought, he should probably be worried about just how much he enjoyed his work. But that would wait. He had patients to treat. Sometimes, Leonard really loved his job.

***END***


End file.
